Tre sat on the trainer’s table, in the shadow of his grandfather’s broad shoulders. His boots dangled freely, swallowing up his scrawny legs, but there was a slugger’s stare in his eyes. Thomas wiped at his grandson’s brow, then scooped up his fists. A drip in a dark corner near the lockers kept time like … More The Pep Talk
Are you there Margaret? It’s me, Vern. You’ll have to excuse my handwriting, I’m cramping up something terrible today. Not much has changed here. The crows are still at it, staking claim to the feeder. And I got into with Miss Cooper again. All I was doing was stamping down the mole hills in her … More Are You There, Margaret?
*My entry for the Bloggers’ Bash writing competition* Many guests arrived for dinner. I shucked oysters, kept the fire, cooked, and made pies. Mrs. Wilks stayed near, in the way, hawking over her ingredients. Serving the courses, it was lively with song and laughter. In the spirit, I allowed myself to smile. “Oney?” Mrs. … More Queen Mother
“I certainly don’t feel like I’m the same as everybody else.” “What are you, Charley Brown? Come on Garrett.” We were on the hill behind the school, where only a sagging chain-link fence cordoned us off from the blur of passing cars, trucks, commerce, and society in general. Molly lay back, oblivious to dirt or … More Thought Litter
The ice water dribbled down Amelia’s palm, over her wrist and snaked down the inside of her forearm. She wiped her arm on her side, eyeing the point of the safety pin in Karissa’s hand. “Amelia, relax,” said Julie. “You’re going to faint.” “I’m fine,” Amelia said. She blinked, smiled, she swallowed dry. She reached … More Pierced
Julie has really stuck to her New Years’ resolution. She’s doing aerobics at the Y. Hip hop dance things. I wake up predawn sometimes, find her in the living room, grunting and squatting and lunging to the commands of instructional YouTube videos promising a bigger booty. She looks incredible. All the hard work is paying … More Butt Head
I saw a little boy at the park. His t-shirt read, Strong Like Mom. I looked at woman who was with the boy, his mother, I presumed. She was petite, didn’t appear to have any obvious superhuman strengths. She wore a bandana on her head and my first impression was that maybe she’d been through … More Strong Like Mom